


The Ring

by Rose_Sparrowblack



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27164344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_Sparrowblack/pseuds/Rose_Sparrowblack
Summary: A few years after Mary dies, John gets drunk and buys an engagement ring for Sherlock. But will even that be enough to convince them to share their feelings for each other?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	The Ring

Sherlock sat in his chair, waiting for John to get home after his night out with Stamford. The door scraped open, and judging by the slow, uneven footfalls on the steps, John had gone well over his alcohol limit.   
“Oh good, you’re still awake,” John slurred, coming into the living room without removing his coat. He was excited about something, then.   
Sherlock watched John from the corner of his eye, but didn’t move. It had been nearly two hours since Mike had told Sherlock they were leaving the bar, and if Sherlock didn’t know better, he would have been worried. But as John fumbled for something inside his jacket, Sherlock was only curious.   
John finally found what he was looking for, but lost his balance in the process, grabbing onto the edge of the table to steady himself, and then giving up and lowering himself so that his knee was on the floor. Then he opened the small black box in his other hand.   
Here, Sherlock finally turned to look at John. To fully take him in, with his wrinkled jumper, his moussed hair, his eye bags, and the splash of beer on his collar. And of course, the box in his hand. Sherlock must have been imagining it, with the little silver sparkle that came when the lid was flipped up. But Sherlock did not imagine things. His eyes did not play tricks on him, and he was also certain that he wasn’t high.   
“Will you marry me?”  
He’s drunk.  
He doesn’t mean it.  
It’s an elaborate prank.  
He doesn’t know what he’s saying.  
He’s drunk.   
Don’t get your hopes up.  
This isn’t real.  
You can’t take him seriously.  
Despite all those thoughts telling him otherwise, it was many minutes before Sherlock found the ability to form words.   
“You’re drunk.” not a yes; not a no. Just a statement of fact.   
“You won’t?” his face turned to stone. Even when drunk, John was a master at hiding his feelings. But then he switched to his captain voice, and Sherlock realized there was only one way out of the situation. He picked up the ring, and slid it onto his finger. It fit him perfectly.   
Finally Sherlock was able to convince John to take his coat off, and helped him up the stairs to his bedroom, nearly carrying him the whole way when he kept falling asleep. After John was in bed, Sherlock set an Advil and a glass of water on the bedside table, checked to make sure that Rosie was still asleep in her bed on the wall across from John’s, and then went back downstairs to the kitchen.   
He sat down at the kitchen counter, pushing his microscope over to make space. He spun the ring around and around his finger, watching it. Eventually he got up and went to John’s coat, pulling out the ring box and the crinkled receipt under it. He had already formed a list of jewelry stores that John could have made it to within the missing 2 hours, but he needed to know which one it was. He could already tell that it was an expensive ring, from the fine craftsmanship and the number of diamonds, but he was still shocked at the price he saw when he unfurled the receipt. The shop would be closed by now, but Sherlock made a note to visit it as soon as it opened the next morning. Until then, he continued twisting the ring around his finger. 

Sherlock must have fallen asleep like that, because the next thing he knew, the sun was glaring through the window, and the flat was empty. John had left a note on the fridge letting Sherlock know that he had dropped Rosie off at school, and reminding Sherlock that they were out of milk.   
Sherlock fiddled with the ring all morning, and headed up to the jewelry shop on his way to the grocery store. 

“Who was working here last night around 11:30?” Sherlock asked the young woman standing behind the counter.  
“Me. Why do you ask?”  
“Do you remember a man coming in around then? About this tall, with grey blond hair? He bought this ring.”  
“Oh I remember him! He seemed a little drunk if you ask me. But he was very excited about that ring.”  
“Really?”  
“Oh yes. He seemed quite smitten—he spent the whole time I was helping him gushing about his partner.”  
“What did he say about them?”  
“Well, he said they were very smart. And gorgeous—oh my god he wouldn’t stop talking about their cheekbones! He was nervous, though. He was worried he’d be turned down. But why do you want to know? Who are you?”  
“A concerned friend. Thank you for your help.”  
“I know it’s none of my business, but as a ‘concerned friend,’ do you know if his partner said yes?”  
“It’s complicated.”   
“Alright.” 

Sherlock ran a few more errands and ate the lunch that John had left for him, and soon it was time to pick Rosie up from school. He put the ring back into its box, and set it, along with the receipt, on the table. As they rode the tube home, he and Rosie played their deduction game with people on the train. Rosie’s conclusions were much too imaginative, but Sherlock could tell that she would grow up with all of his intelligence, and all of John’s kindness. When they got home, she munched on an apple while they waited for John to get off work.   
Both their ears perked up at the sound of the front door opening, and after a few seconds, Rosie jumped up and ran to the stairs.  
“Daddy!”  
“Hi Rosie! How was school?” he asked, picking her up and hugging her. She told him all about her kindergarten class, and about the deductions they had made on the train. John showed her a book that he had picked up from the library on his way home, and she ran off to read it while John set his bag down and took off his coat.   
“Did you get the groceries like I asked?”  
“I did.”  
“God how much did I drink last night? My head still hurts from that hangover.”  
“Well you did propose, so it must have been a lot. I hoped Mike would’ve been a better influence on you, but I guess not.”  
“Hold up- I what?”  
“You were pretty drunk. And you should probably return this,” Sherlock said, sliding the ring across the table.   
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go do that now…”

“Oh it’s you again?”  
“Yeah…”  
“How did the proposal go?”  
“It’s complicated.”  
“That sounds familiar.”  
“What? Nevermind. I should probably, uh, return this.”  
John pulled the ring box out of his pocket, but didn’t immediately set it down.   
“Oh no! I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”  
“No, it’s alright. Look, I was pretty drunk. I don’t remember much from that evening.”  
“You seemed to really love your partner. I’m surprised they didn’t feel the same.”  
“Thank you for your sympathy, but I just need to get this done.”  
“I can’t return it unless you give it to me.”  
“Sorry.” John hurriedly handed her the box, and watched as she scanned his receipt, and then started to put the ring back onto the display. She inspected it quickly, to make sure that it wasn’t damaged in any way, commenting that it looked like it had been worn an awful lot for only having been bought 24 hours early.   
“What are you waiting for?” she asked, seeing him still standing there.  
“Actually-”  
“Did you change your mind already?”  
“Yeah. I’d like to keep the ring.”  
The woman sighed, and handed the ring back to John, undoing the return on her computer.  
“Thank you.” John turned to leave, then added: “If anyone asks, don’t tell them about this. About me keeping it.”  
“Like that tall man with the curls and coat?”  
Damnit, Sherlock. “Yes. Like him.”

For the next week, they avoided talking about the ring. Afterall, they had nearly a decade of practice with avoiding topics. John left it in his dresser where he hoped Sherlock wouldn’t find it, and they were distracted with getting Rosie adjusted to being in school. It was about a week later, while Mrs. Hudson was dusting, that the topic came up again.  
The three of them had all managed to get up in time, and were sitting around the table eating toast.   
“It’s so sweet of you to keep Mary’s engagement ring next to your bed like that,” Mrs. Hudson commented.  
“What?” John asked.  
“That ring. On your table. Isn’t that Mary’s? I noticed it when I was dusting up there.”  
“I thought that was still in the box of her stuff in the attic,” Sherlock added.   
“Oh I suppose that’s right—that ring did look a bit different than Mary’s. Bigger.”  
Mrs. Hudson continued dusting, but Sherlock could’ve sworn he saw her wink at them. John immediately jumped up, making some excuse about how it had gotten later than he realized, and went off to brush his teeth. After John had left, and after Sherlock had dropped Rosie off at school, he snuck up into John’s room. He search the room for a while, careful not to disturb anything, until he found the ring Mrs. Hudson had mentioned. Sure enough, it was the same one that John had claimed to return. He slid it onto his finger and went back to his work, returning it to its box just before John got home.   
He got into the habit of doing that—wearing it when there was no one to see it, and putting it back where it belonged when John was home. 

“I’m sad, Dada.” Rosie said, flopping down onto the couch next to Sherlock.  
“What’s wrong?”  
“At recess, a kid said that I was weird for making deductions, and that it made me look like a stupid nerd when I answered all the teacher’s questions.”   
Sherlock asked himself what John would do. Unlike Sherlock, John always knew the right thing to say in any given situation. But as he started talking, he ended up leaning more towards what he would have liked to hear when he was 5. “They’re wrong, you know. You’re very smart, and you shouldn’t hide that. You’re probably even smarter than your daddy, but don’t tell him I said that.”  
Rosie giggled, but there were still tears on her face.  
“Those kids only said that to you because they know that they’ll never be as smart as you, and they’re jealous of you. You need to avoid them, and only make friends with people who appreciate how smart you are. And one day, you’ll be a famous detective or pirate or doctor or whatever it is you want to be. And Daddy and I will always love you, ok?”  
“Ok,” Rosie said, hugging Sherlock. “But now can we dance to make me happy again?”  
“Of course.”  
Sherlock got up and turned on music, and then he and Rosie danced for a while. First, Sherlock helped Rosie with her waltz, her standing on top of his feet to make herself taller. Her rhythm was perfect, though. Then Sherlock applauded as she twirled away to dance a solo. With the music on, and with the leaping around on the living room floor, Sherlock missed the text from John saying that work had let out early, and missed the sound of the front door opening, or of the footsteps on the stairs. John had been standing in the doorway, watching his daughter and best friend dance for a few minutes before Rosie finally spotted him.   
“Hello,” Sherlock said, and then tucked his hand, along with the ring, into his pocket.   
“Come dance with us!” Rosie said, grabbing onto her dad’s hand and pulling him into the room.   
“Not right now, sweety. I’m too tired.”  
“Oh.”  
John sat down on the couch as Rosie went off to the kitchen, and he glanced at Sherlock’s pocket. “What’s that?”  
“What?”   
“Show me your hands.”  
“Look. Perfectly normal hands.”  
“No. You were wearing that ring when you were dancing, weren’t you?”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
John got up and walked over to Sherlock, and reached his hand towards Sherlock’s pocket.   
“Fine.” Sherlock said, pulling the ring out of his pocket. He opened up his hand, saying: “I suppose you want this back.”  
John reached out as if to take the ring, but instead cupped his hands around Sherlock’s. “No. Keep it. It looks good on you.”  
They stood there for a minute, neither sure what to do next. Finally Rosie ran in, begging John to come look at the solar system drawing she had done in class.   
“We need to talk about this. Later. After she’s asleep.”  
“Alright.” 

John cooked dinner, and afterwards, Sherlock brought Rosie up stairs and sang a lullaby to her until she fell asleep. When he came back down, John was seated in his chair, waiting.   
“Shouldn’t one of us be in the client chair?”  
John laughed, and Sherlock sat down in his own chair.  
“Why were you wearing the ring?”  
“Why did you keep it?”  
“Answer my question first.”  
“Sentiment.”  
“I thought you weren’t sentimental.”  
“Why didn’t you return it?”  
“I couldn’t bring myself to.”  
“Why?”   
“Sentiment?”  
“Hey, that’s my word!”   
“I know,” John said, grinning.   
“Why did you buy the ring in the first place?”  
“You said it yourself: I was drunk.”  
“Alcohol won’t turn you into something you aren’t. It just accentuates what’s already there. So you love me.”  
“Yes.”  
“You always said you were straight!”  
“I think my actual words were ‘not gay.’ But either way, I couldn’t let myself realize I liked you like that.”  
“Because you had to be perfect.”   
“I guess, yeah.”  
“... why are you looking at me like that?”  
“This is when you’re supposed to tell me that you love me, too. Either that or I go bury my head in the sand.”  
“Oh. Yes. I, uh, love you. John.”  
“You’re not unattached, then?”  
“No. I’m demi. I don’t form attachments quickly, but that doesn’t mean I don’t form them at all.” Sherlock had been tossing the ring around in his hand during the conversation, but here he paused and slipped it back onto his finger. As he was doing this, John got up and stood in front of him. When Sherlock looked back up, John’s lips were there to meet his.  
When they stopped for a breath a minute later, John asked why Sherlock hadn’t said anything earlier.  
“You’re my best friend, John. I didn’t want to lose that.”  
“I won’t let us lose that again. I promise.”  
“Good, because I really like this.”  
“Me too.”


End file.
